Lavender
by Sjutton
Summary: Søren works weekend shifts in a local flower shop. One uneventful Saturday, a particularly attractive young man with multiple piercings, tattoos, and a cross shaved into the side of his head comes in to buy roses.


lav·en·der

/ˈlavəndər/

 _noun_

A small aromatic evergreen shrub of the mint family, with narrow leaves and bluish-purple flowers. Lavender has been widely used in perfumery and medicine since ancient times. It has been used for centuries in the area of love, and is now widely regarded as a flower of romance.

* * *

Søren flipped through the Saturday edition of _Ekstra Bladet_ , skimming his eyes over the headlines and seeing nothing interesting. He settled for the comics section, readjusting himself in his stool and crossing his legs. Just as he was finishing up the section, he heard the little bell by the door ring as someone came inside.

He quickly folded his newspaper, standing up and laying it to the side of the counter.

"Hello, and welcome to _Københavns Smukkeste Blomster_!" He called as his eyes found the customer.

Søren thought the man must've been around his age; sixteen or seventeen at most. He had two small spheres adorning either side of his nose, and a large metal ring went through his septum. Silver snake bites were set in the skin under his lip, and Søren could see gages and various piercings along his ears. The hair on one side of the boy's head hung down in blonde waves stretching to about his chin, and the other side had been fashioned into a buzz-cut with a cross shaved into the side. The guy wore a leather jacket over a plain black tank-top, accented by many colourful tattoos running up and down both of his arms. His scrutinising amethyst eyes really completed the look, matching perfectly with his multiple face piercings.

"Hello." the man replied starkly as he turned to browse the selection of flowers in the shop.

Søren furrowed his eyebrows slightly, clearing his throat as he pushed his glasses up his nose and went to stand at the end of the aisle the man was currently browsing through. "Are you looking for anything specific?"

The man didn't even spare him a glance as he flipped over the price tag on a vase full of single roses. "I've got it."

Søren bit his lip, nodding as he turned and walked back to the counter. _An accent – is he Norwegian?_

About a minute later, the boy stalked over to the counter with three red roses in his hand. "How much?"

Now that Søren got the chance to see the other man up close, he realised just how attractive he was. He had perfect, delicate lips—something Søren didn't expect to see on a guy with such a badass physique—and his beautiful blue-violet eyes popped due to the thick black eyeliner he was wearing. _Yes… Norwegian._

"Hello?"

Søren started, pulling himself out of his stupor. "I'm so sorry, do forgive me. Three roses, you say? 60 kroner."

The man pulled out his wallet, rifling through it and pulling out a 100 kroner banknote. "You got change?"

"Sure." Søren popped open the cash register and pressed a 50 kroner note into Lukas's outstretched palm. He nearly jumped as their hands touched in the exchange of the single golden 10 kroner coin.

Søren then took the other's flowers and wrapped them in plain white tissue paper, then slid them into a fancy clear plastic bag and handed them to his customer. "Have an excellent day!"

The boy simply nodded as he tucked the flowers into the crook of his arm, holding them tight to his chest as he silently made his way to the door. The bell gave a little ring as the door shut, leaving Søren all alone again.

He sighed, combing his fingers through his short blonde hair and adjusting his polo shirt as he took a seat in his stool. He put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands under his chin as he thought.

 _Oh God._ If Søren had believed in love in first sight, this would have been it.

 _Get over it, Søren. You're probably never going to see him again, and he's probably getting the flowers for some girlfriend or something anyways._

This proved hard for the poor flower shop worker throughout the next few days. In and out of Søren's thoughts the damned kid came; knocking at the door to his heart, immediately gaining entrance, and pulling at his heartstrings.

Precisely a week later, Søren sat in his stool, lazily flipping through the pages of " **Denne dag, et liv"** by Jens Andersen and forcing himself to keep his eyes open. He had stayed up far too late the prior night (something that was becoming a common occurrence) frantically finishing up his science paper that was due at precisely 06:00 on a Saturday morning, of all days. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his hair was even mussier and unkempt than it usually was. He was sure that his previous customers probably thought he was drunk from the jerky movements and frequent tripping over his own feet he had done that day.

The sound of the bell above the door made him raise his head blearily. He shoved his glasses up his nose to see who it was.

He could've sworn his heart skipped a beat when he found himself recognising the person. It was the punk who had come in last Saturday.

Søren's jaw fell a little in shock. "W-welcome to _Københavns Smuk_ —"

"Mm." The boy eyed him silently, his face giving away nothing as he walked to the aisle he had gone to the week prior. It took him no more than twenty seconds to appear at the counter once more, again bearing three red roses. He placed the roses on the counter and whipped out his wallet, once again pulling out 100 kroner and sliding it over.

Søren's blood ran hot as he fumbled through the register, taking out a 50 kroner banknote and a golden 10 coin. He awkwardly placed them in the other's outstretched hand, then took the roses and carefully wrapped them up. "Here you are."

The punk nodded, taking the roses with delicate hands and turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Søren couldn't believe he had just called out.

The blond glanced back at Søren, his purple eyes studying his red face and squinted eyes with mild curiosity. "What is it?"

Søren sighed. "What's your name?"

Søren had a hard time understanding the look on the other's face, but it appeared to be a somewhat questioning one. "I don't know why you would want to bother knowing, but it's Lukas."

Søren gulped. "Well, Lukas, can I give you something?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stumbled around the counter and picked a fresh sprig of lavender from a nearby vase, bringing it to his customer with something of a dumb, sheepish smile on his face. "I was just thinking that… they match your eyes."

Lukas gazed at him expressionlessly, and Søren felt like he might as well crumble to bits from embarrassment. _He's going make some remark about how he's not gay, or he has a girlfriend, or something—_

"Thank you." Lukas said simply, his eyes appearing to soften slightly as he pushed through the door. Søren could've sworn he saw the other's lips twitch upwards as he left.

The next Saturday found Søren sitting on his stool and bouncing his leg, a clipboard and an attached math sheet balancing on his thigh. He'd been holding it there for about twenty minutes, and he still hadn't completed the first problem. Sure, he knew how to do it just fine (he didn't have an A+ in his AP calculus class for nothing), the problem was that he was far too anxious to see whether Lukas would come back or not.

He sighed as he tried once more to concentrate on his work.

 _If f is continuous on [a, b] and F is an antiderivative of f on [a, b], then…_

What if he had made a move too fast last week? Lukas has probably found another place to go buy flowers…

Søren exhaled deeply and put his head in his hands. He couldn't focus like this.

He pulled out a _Skor_ bar from the bottom drawer of the counter, unwrapping it and taking off a huge chunk in his teeth. He was just going to wait.

It was about thirty minutes to closing time when Søren heard the unmistakable ring of a bell. He whipped his head up and felt his heart pace increase at the sight of a certain blonde-haired boy coming through the doorway.

Søren smiled. "Hello, Lukas!" he said, surprisingly clearly.

Lukas nodded, walking right past his usual aisle and right up to the counter. He leaned over and folded his arms, bringing his face just inches from Søren's. "Do you deliver?"

Søren could feel his heart hammering in his ears. "Y-yes, I do, actually."

"Alright. Could you make me a bouquet of red roses and calla lilies and deliver them to me at eleven o'clock in the morning tomorrow? Twenty-four stems total should be good." Lukas said quietly, his sparkling purple eyes staring at him with a seemingly bored expression.

"Sure," Søren replied, fumbling to grab a notepad and write the order down.

Technically, the store didn't open until eleven-thirty, but he could make an exception for this. "Could you—"

"I'll give you the address and my mobile." Lukas interrupted, tugging at the notepad and scribbling down the information. "There. Now, how much do I owe you?"

Søren calculated in his head. "Hm, twelve roses and twelve calla lilies… Three hundred."

Lukas pulled out his wallet and took out the cash, pressing the bills and the coins onto the counter. "By the way, that lavender you gave me was nice."

Søren could feel Lukas's breath on his forehead, and took a deep breath. "I'm glad you liked it! Would you like some more?"

"Sure…" Lukas breathed, the word fading into the air.

Søren shakily scooted out from under him and plucked a few more sprigs of lavender from the vase. "Here you are."

"Thank you." Lukas said, the corners of his lips definitely raising a bit this time as he walked to the door. "Don't forget, be there by eleven."

"Definitely!" Søren called after him, with a nervous grin.

He got little sleep that night.

Søren arrived at the store one and a half hours early the next morning, dressed in his best green sweater-vest, collared shirt and tie, and khakis. He got straight to work on the bouquet, carefully arranging the flowers in a nice pattern and tying them up in sparkly translucent ribbon. He then picked out a nice glass vase from the back room, proceeding to fill the bottom with water and put the flowers in. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at his watch.

 _10:20. I suppose I should look up the directions to this place._

He pulled out his phone and slid into his stool, for the first time looking at what Lukas had written. He plugged the address into his navigation system.

 _A cemetery?_ Søren pursed his lips. Surprisingly, in his four years of owning his shop, he hadn't ever delivered to a cemetery.

He looked back at the paper, to Lukas's number. _66 09 24 84_ , he typed into his contacts. _Lukas_.

He stood up abruptly, scribbling down his hiatus time on a sheet of paper and taping it to the front door. He returned to the counter and reached for the bouquet and shut and locked the door behind him, the familiar sound of city traffic filling his ears as soon as he stepped outside. He made his way around the café next door and to the little parking lot in back, unlocking his little Fiat and clambering in. He strapped the bouquet into the seat next to him and started the little engine with a roar.

 _I'm just a flower guy doing his business. Nothing more, nothing less._

Despite telling himself this, he still couldn't shake the strange feeling that there was more to this than he thought.

Just over thirty minutes later, Søren pulled up in one of three tiny parking spaces next to the cemetery. He unbuckled his bouquet, climbing out of the car and holding it tightly to his chest. The wind blew his hair sideways as he scanned the cemetery, spotting a certain blonde-haired figure kneeling by a grave. Søren was about to go over to him when Lukas stood up, lingering for a moment beside the grave before turning and striding towards Søren.

"Thank you for getting here on time," Lukas said as he stuck out his hand. "Follow me?"

Søren hoped that his cheeks weren't giving away how he felt as he took hold of Lukas's hand, following him around the various graves until they reached the one Lukas had been at earlier. The grave looked to be very new; there was only one word on the grave marker: _Nygård_.

"Can you put it down right here?" Lukas asked, gesturing to a flat spot near the head of the grave. Søren complied, setting it down with care and stepping back to look at the arrangement.

It was quiet. "I'm sure she would've loved it."

Søren glanced at the grave again. "Is this your mother?"

Lukas nodded solemnly, his face still completely expressionless. "She died of breast cancer about four weeks ago, and today was her fifty-first birthday."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry…" Søren mumbled. He wanted to touch him, to show him that he really did care, but…

"It's fine. She was in major pain for the last month of her life, anyways." Lukas murmured, his hair whipping every which way due to the wind. "Do you want to know what she told me the hour before she died?"

Lukas didn't wait for a reply. "She told me to find someone I loved. To find someone that I know I will love forever, and they will love me just the same."

Søren took a deep, shaky breath as Lukas turned to him, those beautiful violet eyes staring at him with… lust? A small smile lingered on his lips as he said his next words:

"I know I've only just met you, but something inside me says that you're the one."

Søren's heart skipped a beat as Lukas pulled him down and pressed his lips to his, wrapping his arms around his neck. Søren kissed back, moving his lips against Lukas's passionately and running his fingers through his soft hair.

They eventually pulled back for air, both flushed pink and breathing heavily. Søren's hands trembled on Lukas's shoulders for a moment before he pulled him into a tight embrace.

They stayed like that for what could've been minutes or years, letting the wind whip their hair while they enjoyed each other in the blissful comfort of silence. Søren almost thought he could smell lavender in the air, but it could've just been his imagination.


End file.
